


Ad Astra Per Aspera (to the stars through difficulties)

by Beckendorf



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance, references to canon torture and death but not in graphic detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9234413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckendorf/pseuds/Beckendorf
Summary: "T-they sure are b-beautiful." Steve stammered out, looking up at the sky.Bucky's hand gently caressed his friend's face as he whispered an agreement. "But not as beautiful as these ones." He said and gently pressed kisses above Steve's eyes.A story about Bucky and the stars.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I tried a new writing style with this, not sure if it worked out. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> WARNING: There are references to torture, but nothing graphic.

Look to the stars my child my son

Look to the stars, to the eyes of the universe

Look to the stars and see where they cross

Look to the stars to find who you have lost

Look to the stars my child my son

Look to the stars for redemption and temptation

But most of all, you must Look to the stars for love and Salvation

 

\--

_ 1935 _

Winter had never been kind to the native Brooklyner. The winds were harsh as they struck each wall and window, howling in anger. Snows and rains fought a gallant battle for domination, creating a path of utter destruction in their wake.

There were the lucky few (Howard Stark) who could afford central heating. Who could afford to keep themselves warm at night.

Most people would have to make do with a box of matches.

Winters were particularly unpleasant in the Barnes-Rogers household. Every night Steve would wake up with an out of this world coughing fit, his face turning gaudy shades of pink as he fought to keep his breath.

Bucky would run from his room in a sleep laced panic and attempt to nurse his friend.

He was mostly successful, until one night when he'd just happened to have a date and Steve had ended up needing hospital.

Since then, they'd taken to sharing a bed. It was cheaper, with just the one bed, plus Bucky could make sure Steve was warmer that way too.

The chill would go straight to his chest, like a ghostly force slowly freezing his insides. He'd wake up coughing with worrying strength, and then his lungs would pack up and he'd be gasping for breath, on the verge of losing his head.

Bucky would give him whatever medicines they could afford, which was a rare occurrence on their combined salaries. But Bucky had found a simpler solution.

Their bed had the perfect view of the night sky out the little window. Steve's face was always illuminated by the light of the moon. Bucky would snake his arms around the smaller man, gently massaging his back as the last of the coughs shook through his body.

"Look, at the Stars Stevie, they sure are beautiful tonight, huh?"

He'd whisper, allowing Steve to look up. Some nights there would only be one or two, but it meant that Steve was distracted enough to stop consciously coughing.

They'd fall asleep quickly afterwards, Bucky's hand now retracted from his fragile friend.

 

He started looking for astronomy and astrology books, for stories to tell Steve during the night. Summer was coming, but Bucky doubted that that would change anything.

 

One night Steve had started shivering uncontrollably, which prompted Bucky to give him all the body heat he had by wrapping himself around Steve. The stars were extremely visible tonight.

"T-they sure are b-beautiful." Steve stammered out.

Bucky's hand gently caressed his friend's face as he whispered an agreement. "But not as beautiful as these ones." He said and gently pressed kisses above Steve's eyes. Bucky loves the colour of his eyes, the way they shine in the moonlight could illuminate even the darkest parts of the world.

"S-shut up Buck." He's not unhappy, just embarrassed. It wasn't like this sort of stuff was...commonplace. But who could judge what happens behind closed doors.

 

The night before Bucky ships out, the last night, they stay up looking at the stars. Bucky promises he'll be back soon. He has to be. He's almost sick with worry; the chance that he might come back and Steve won't be there.

 

He kisses Steve on the lips, a light peck nothing more, and cherishes the look of surprise and wonder in his eyes. If he dies in the field, that's the image he wants engraved in his head, the last thing he sees before he dies.

 

\--

There's a sliver of light coming through the window above Bucky's bed. He's tied down, but he can move his head just enough to make out the silhouette of the moon. There's fog and mist obscuring his vision, but he isn't sure if that's the weather or the drugs they've put him on. He thinks of Steve, of New York. He thinks of their little bed in their tiny dingy apartment, of looking out of the window and counting the stars. It's not night time in New York, but maybe tonight Steve will see what he sees. Anything to connect him back to his old life.

Reality is altered here in the hydra base. Bucky has seen and heard things way beyond what he signed up for.

There are foot steps coming from the hallway, loud and fast paced, heavy and desperate. He prepares himself for the worst, for the pain that's sure to come.

The door hits the ground with a crash and soon something is blocking the moonlight.

"Bucky? Oh my god Bucky!" He recognises that voice. He opens hiseyes and smiles. "The stars are bright tonight." He says. He must be dying; he's imagining that he can see Steve's eyes in front of him. They're the brightest stars he's ever seen.

 

\--

The last thing Bucky sees before he dies are snowy ice capped mountains, sharp sides inviting him to land on them. 

The last thing Bucky imagines before he dies is Steve's face.

The next time he wakes up, his mind is fuzzy again. The room he's in has bright white lights with no windows.

He keeps asking for one. He needs to look outside. He's not sure why, but he knows he needs to.

They don't say anything. They knock him out and strap him to a metal chair. It's painful, so so painful. He screams, he pleads that he needs to see the face. They make it hurt tenfold. 

He wishes he knew who 'they' even were.

He doesn't remember his questions anymore.

\--

He dreams of a face every night. It fills him with warmth when he sees it. He doesn't know who it belongs to, doesn't know where he's seen it. It definitely doesn't belong to the agents in his compound. These days, he hardly remembers his name. 

 

He dreams of stars. Always stars. Stars with the face engraved in them. Sometimes the face is smiling. Sometimes he sees the face in various forms of distress. It pains him that he doesn't know who the face belonged to. Belonged, for they certainly must be dead by now. 

 

They let him out for his first mission , and he gets to see the world. He thinks he used to know this world, but he honestly can't remember.

It's night time when he comes back to the compound, his uniform wrecked and bloody. The guard checks his security clearance.

"The stars are beautiful tonight da?" The guard says, looking up as the machine scans his eyes.

 

He glares at the guard, before glancing up at the sky.

"They're the wrong shade of blue" he replies.

\-- 

"The man on the bridge..." The man on the bridge, the man with the blue eyes, the  _right shade of blue._

James knows him. James knows this man, he's dreamt about this man for years and years. He  _knows._  

 

They're not happy with the answer. He will be punished for asking questions. He mentally prepares himself for the pain, apologising to the man with blue eyes in his head. Tomorrow, James won't remember him. Tomorrow, James will kill him. 

It's just a target, he knows that. But this target stirs up so many feeling in him-he can feel something surfacing in his brain. A memory..? but he has no memories. None of personal importance anyway. 

The images are getting stronger, there's a dark sky scattered with stars, there's a person there who's shining even brighter, he thinks he can just about make out the shape-

The images are gone. 

He is ready for his new mission. 

\--

'Longing...

No. Not this. Not again.

Rusted....

"STOP!" He screams, covering his ears. 

"Seventeen....Dawn..."

Steve's face, bloody and broken. His body lifeless as he pulls it out of the lake. 

"Stove...Nine...."

Howard and Maria Stark, begging for their lives, Maria telling him that she has a son, they have a  _son please spare us..._

"Kind-hearted..."

Steve coughing, the light fading from his eyes as he tries to survive. His own hands are around Steve's throat. 

"Homecoming..." 

_"Ready to comply"_

\--

"Sergeant Barnes, welcome back." Bucky squints as he opens his eyes, sussing out his surroundings. He's in a hospital room, he's in Wakanda. He's safe.

T'Challa's head doctor is in front of him. She's talking to her staff and giving him a warm smile. He trusts her.

They show him to another room, and he barely had time to look around before he's engulfed in a hug.

"I missed you." Steve says into his neck, squeezing him hard.

"Missed you too punk." He replies, his voice breaking from lack of use. Could potentially be linked to the moisture in his eyes.

Steve shows him to his room, and the first thing Bucky looks at is the huge glass panel that makes up one of his walls. He has a beautiful view of the jungle, but the only thing he wants to focus on is the beautiful view of the sky. 

"Knew you'd like it." Steve said. He was tentative and nervous as he stood next to his best friend, his tension radiated through the room. 

They'd been through so much, it was difficult to quantify how they felt now.

Steve threw an arm around his shoulders. He was at a loss now. What should he do, what could he say?

He looked up to the blanket ofstars above them and the silvery reflections on the thick foliage. He looked for an answer.

But this time, maybe the answer was in himself.

"The stars are beautiful here aren't they?" Steve says, and Bucky knows exactly what he's thinking of.

"They're nothing compared to you." He replies, and suddenly they were kids in an apartment in 1935, almost like nothing had ever changed. He pressed his lips against Steve's, cherishing this eternal moment. He's with the stars now.  

He's home. 

 

\--

Look to the stars my love my Saint

Look to the stars to end my pain

Look to the stars until your lover returns

For our love, my star, forever will burn. 


End file.
